


A Second Chance at the End of the World

by foxymandy3100



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Arson, Bittersweet Ending, Body Horror, I was depressed when I wrote this, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, No beta we die like archival assistants, Suicide Attempt, sad beginning, suicidal idealogy, time travel fix it fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:54:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxymandy3100/pseuds/foxymandy3100
Summary: They've killed Elias but the world is still ruined. Martin knows how to fix it but can he go through with it? Can he set things right again?(a time travel fix-it fic)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 26
Kudos: 54





	1. The end or the beginning?

**Author's Note:**

> my apologies for how depressing this is. i was in a bad place when i wrote this. if you'd like to find me, my account is Sukurarose92 on tumblr. feel free to message me!
> 
> i orphaned this fic and regret it so i'm reposting it. so if you saw this before, sorry.

The room was finally, blessedly, silent, only the constant white noise of the recorder running was left. 

The creature that had once been Elias Bouchard, once been Jonah Magnus was little more than particles in the air ; vanished, torn apart by the ceaseless watcher’s gaze. And with his passing, Martin’s worst fears were realized. Killing Elias had solved nothing. The world ever remained a catalog of fear and misery , only _now_ _,_ Jon stood at the middle of it. 

He was no longer the Archivist, but the Archive itself. 

Martin felt his body growing cold and numb to the tips of his clenched fingers, relaxing them and making him go limp. Their journey had truly been for nothing. He could no sooner kill Jon than he could kill himself and yet the world would be the cost if he could not bring himself to act. 

But the very thought of doing harm to Jon was enough to send him reeling, enough to force him to stumble away a couple of feet before he managed to catch himself on solid ground . Jonah’s throne the backdrop to the vision of horror ahead of him. 

Jon, what used to be Jon, stared at him, all eyes and moving void. Gone was the hair Martin had run his hands through on a particularly long night at the Scottish cott age when neither of them could sleep, so convinced if they nodded off , they would wake up alone. Gone were the eyes he stared lovingly into each time they embraced. Gone were the hands that held his as he walked from the lonely, loved and wanted at Jon’s side . Gone was the voice of the man he had fallen in love with. 

It was all gone. Everything they had, everything they were, stared at him without recognition. His Jon died in the battle with Elias. Whatever was left was not the man he knew. 

The shambling horror moved across the floor, one-part slither, one-part step, bits of void cascading from the oddly viscous form and vanishing into what looked like ashes but certainly were not. It approached Martin and with each movement forward Martin moved back. 

He back stepped, putting as much space between them as he could while the horror that was once his lover came closer. Once Martin was pressed to the glass wall of the panopticon, he could escape no further and waited to meet his fate. Perhaps he would see Jon on the other side. 

The creature stopped, only a foot of distance between them and stared. It did not move closer, it did not back away, it simply stared, unspeaking, unmoving. Martin knew it was waiting for something, but he wasn’t sure what. 

Pain flashed through his side as the horror finally reached out and touched him, a scream ripped from his throat as his mind was attacked. He knew this monster was soaking up his fear but, in his panic, , he felt a light, a softer touch to his mind. 

Someone was calling him. 

Jon was calling him. 

Suddenly the pain didn’t matter anymore, Jon was alive inside of that creature, that was enough. The voice came again, calling his name, soft and gentle. 

It did not speak; it had no mouth to do so but Martin felt the voice through him and without words he understood. He understood that this thing , that Jon , had still loved him and needed his help. 

Through the agony of having his mind invaded Martin listened, focused, and let the creature feed him images of what he had to do. 

He couldn’t do it. 

This was Jon’s last request. He was fading away and he asked Martin to kill him. To end everything and set the world back. 

The answer was to destroy the archive, the ceaseless watcher’s domain, With the Panopticon gone there would be a void that would suck in all the other domains and leave the world as it had once been. 

He had to destroy the archives... to destroy Jon. 

He shook his head as he came back to himself, knocking away the touch of the creature to press himself to the glass walls. 

“NO!” he cried. “I won’t do it!” 

The horror only stared, seeming unbothered. It took a step forward and pressed itself to him, reaching out with a burst of pure love that washed over martin like a wave crashing upon rocks at sea. Jon loved him so much. 

So why did it feel like he was saying goodbye? 

The tape recorders grew louder, the fuzzy static turning deafening as a voice not meant to be heard by human ears came through. 

**_“Destroy the Archives And run away_** ** _. I want you to live, Martin. I love you._** ** _”_**

Martin recognized what it was the moment it began to speak, and he pressed his hands over his ears in an attempt to block it out, but the damage was done, the compulsion settled into his mind and tore at him, driving him to move. 

His body wasn’t his own anymore. He crossed the room, picking up the lighter on the ground , Jon’s silver zippo covered in spider webs, and clutched it to his chest, refusing for only a moment to give in before the pain of being torn apart was too much and he threw the lighter at the creature that was Jon. 

He lit up like paper, letting out a sorrowful sound a s the eye above them shrieked and began to boil in the sky. Martin didn’t wait, the second part of the compulsion spurred him to action and he bolted, unable to watch as the one he loved burned al ive because of him. He ran down the stairwell to the opening of the panopticon and out into the hellscape to watch as the tower at the end of the world burned. 

Martin legs gave out, whether from running or horror at what he’d done he didn’t know but he couldn’t move anymore. The screams bled together, it may have been Jon screaming, or Him, or the world around him but all Martin knew was the hollow ache in his chest that tore him apa rt and the screaming. 

He laid outside the burnt remains of the Magnus Institute for god knows how long before some kind soul stopped to check on him. Martin was not alright, but he dragged himself to his feet anyways. 

It was over now, and no one would know how much Jon sacrificed to end it... no one would care he was gone, only Martin would be around to remember him. 

He went home. 

His first instinct was to return to the safe house in Scotland, but he couldn’t bring himself to return to a place with so many memories of Jon. So instead, he went back to his London flat and sunk into the couch, taking in the only place without memories of J on. 

The world continued on outside, but Martin couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. The world was empty without Jon, it wasn’t a world worth living in and yet the compulsion kept him there. 

Jon had wanted him to live, he had sacrificed himself so that Martin could survive. Martin wished, more than anything, that he had burned inside of the panopticon along with Jon. 

Days stretched on as the world pieced itself back together, people went back to their homes, businesses resumed, and life as they had known it before returned. Martin didn’t know what normal was anymore. 

Normal had been waking up next to Jon. Normal had been shared meals. Normal had been walking hand in hand through hell but being able to do it because they were together. 

Martin didn’t want a new normal. He wanted Jon back. 

He tried. God knows he tried but he couldn’t bring himself to keep going, to eat flavorless food just to survive, to sleep so he wouldn’t lose his mind, to keep moving because he was commanded to. 

As the compulsion faded so did Martin’s will to keep going. 

In the end it was too much. 

Martin placed the bottle in his mouth and pulled the trigger. 

The noise of the pistol forced him upright and he looked around in panic. Had it worked? Was he dead? 

He was in the archives. Was this hell? 

The door to the office swung open and Jon emerged from inside, unscarred, with short hair and glasses hung low on his nose. 

“Martin, if you insist on sleeping at your desk then go home. You're less than useless like this” 

Jon’s tone was clipped and precise and he stared down his nose at him with thinly veiled annoyance and Martin felt his heart stop. 

“Hey Marto, Sasha and I are going out for some drinks, you wanna come along?” 

Tim came out from the break room wearing a bomber jacket and a grin with a stranger Martin didn’t recognize at his side. She smiled at him and Martin wished she were familiar. 

He quickly stood and marched into Jon’s office, picking up the newspaper from the side of the desk where it usually sat. 

June 16, 2016. 

This was before Prentiss attacked. 

Martin felt his heart clench in his chest. Somehow, he had survived. He was four years into the past, and he had a second chance to save Jon, to save Tim and Sasha and right all the wrongs of the future. 

He vowed this time that he would get it right. He would save Jon if it was the last thing he ever did. 


	2. Drinks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how much of this I will actually write. My entire passion for this is based on comments for it I've gotten thus far. I hadn't intended to make this multi-chapter but here we are. I hope you like it and I will do my utmost to continue it.

Martin sat a t the bar with Tim and the stranger he knew was Sasha. He tipped back his drink and swallowed it down. When he set down the empty glass and tapped the bar for a refill Tim  spared him a worried glance. 

“ E ase up a bit Marto, are you trying to get wasted?” 

He had to admit, it wasn’t like him to drink for the sake of drinking but then  again, he’d had an entirely different bottle in his hands not long ago and he felt he deserved the comfort that would come with mind-numbing intoxication. 

“perhaps a bit. It's been a long day” 

Tim and Sasha shared a look. 

“Are you alright Martin? You all but barged into the boss man’s office and snatched up his paper and you were pale as a sheet... nearly unresponsive for several minutes. You even had Jon worried you might pass out on the spot. Is there something you want to talk about? Did you see another worm?” 

Martin felt pieces shift together. Ah, so this was after he was trapped in his flat by Prentiss but before her attack on the archives. That mean t he didn’t have very long.  He wasn’t sure where Prentiss had been during that time which meant he would have to deal with her when she inevitably attacked the institute. If she was in the tunnels right now the CO2 wouldn’t reach her or the worms.  If he waited though, there was the chance he couldn’t save the real Sasha from being replaced. 

What could he do to protect them all?

“Martin?” 

His thoughts were interrupted by a softer voice and he glanced over at the stranger- No. Sasha. That was the  _ real _ Sasha James. His friend. 

“What?” 

He supposed it wasn’t a very eloquent response but he’d missed the whole of the conversation up to that point so it was really all he could give. 

“You didn’t answer Tim. Are you alright? You don’t seem like yourself today.” 

Sasha studied him much like a butterfly pinned inside of a case. He felt dissected by her eyes, already seen  through and found out even  though he knew no normal person would guess what the reality of his situation was in a million years. They were still at t he stage where they  didn’t believe the statements were true. 

No, that wasn’t wholly accurate. Sasha always believed, she knew what lurked in artifact storage and Tim knew  firsthand of the monsters out there, so did Jon for all his denials and fear. He wasn’t safe at  all; he could  be found out so easily. 

Perhaps they would think he had been replaced instead.  He realized he was being called after again. He dragged himself out of his head and plastered a smile on his face even though he felt it chipping and flaking away like old paint rubbed at too many times with careless  dry  hands.

“I’m fine.” 

It was an old lie but one he had said so many times it slipped from his lips without thought or effort. He hadn’t been “fine”  for most of his life. He only recalled two times when everything was okay and he wasn’t just sloughing through his days in hopes life would get better, before his father left and the brief stay in the cottage out in the  Scottish fields . 

His thoughts circled around to what was making everything not fine now. Jon. His Jon was dead now, gone forever, this Jon barely knew him and didn’t like him at all. It had taken years for them to build up to what he had and now Martin was back to square one and completely alone.  Sure, his mother was alive now but much as he didn’t like admitting it to himself, he would be just as happy to avoid her company. 

Tim and Sasha were  back, and they were all friends  again, but it had cost so much for even that small comfort. He would never see his Jon again. 

He was alone. 

Again. 

Jon had sworn after dragging him from the lonely that he would never leave him alone again and yet here Martin sat, without anyone he could be honest or close with. Devastated and wholly abandoned by everyone with nothing he could do about it. 

He could help them, maybe even save them, but he couldn’t be close to them or they could find out he wasn’t himself anymore, at least, not the him that they knew. 

Martin had given himself up to the lonely before to protect his friends but after finally knowing what love was, he wasn’t sure if he could do it again. He didn’t have the strength to put himself back into that  disassociating place nor did he have the means. He couldn’t go work under Peter like he had before. He was stuck in the Archives with the others and they wouldn’t let him pull away without a fight. 

He would have to play the game. Pretend to be himself and go through the motions all over again. It was going to hurt like hell and Martin needed to ready himself for that. 

He tipped back his second drink and slapped the bar for another when  Tim put a hand on his arm. 

“Martin, we’re worried about you. You can come and stay at my place if you need, you can use dan-… my spare room. You don’t have to stay at the Archive. I promise, you’re not a bother.”

Tim was so kind and  thoughtful, but Martin couldn’t allow himself to get too close too early. He wanted to accept the  offer , he remembered how uncomfortable the cot in the archives was , but their Martin would have been too awkwardly gay to do something so bold as sleeping at his attractive friend’s flat. 

“Thank you, Tim. I appreciate the  offer, but the Archives is fine for me.” 

“Then why the third drink? What’s on your mind Marto?” 

Tim watched him with imploring eyes, Sasha on the other side of him sitting with her head in her hands, watching... No, studying him.  Sasha was always too clever for her own good, that’s what made Gertrude Robinson take notice of her. It would’ve made her a great Archivist but right now it made her a threat. She would be the one to watch out for when it came to hiding himself. 

“ well, I've been through it recently. I think I've earned the chance to unwind and just have a few too many drinks” 

He settled on the excuse and hoped it sounded legitimate enough to make them stop asking. He was more than relieved when  Tim and  Sasha shared a look and dropped the line of conversation, turning it to something more light and far less personal. 

Martin managed to make it through drinks and  allowed Tim and Sasha to walk him back to the institute before they left. Martin found himself sitting alone in the record storage closet serving as his current home with the corkscrew in hand. He knew that Prentiss wouldn’t attack just yet but that didn’t help him knowing that he r worms were just on the other side of the wall, waiting for the right time to strike . 

A bang outside the door sent him jolting. He bolted out of bed, corkscrew still in hand, and threw open the door, startling Jon, who had been knelt on the floor picking up the tape recorder he’d dropped but was n ow on his rump staring up at Martin in startled shock. 

“Oh god, it’s just you, Martin. I thought you were out with Tim and Sasha.” 

“ I was. It’s two in the morning Jon. What are you still doing here?” 

Jon had the good sense to look sheepish at being caught. 

“Is it really so late? I was just finishing up some last-minute work. I hadn’t realized how much time had slipped away from me” 

Martin studied Jon. He had forgotten just how young he had looked when he claimed the position as Archivist. At the time Martin had thought he looked perfectly his age, a slightly greying man of  thirty-eight who had worked his way into such a  Prestigious position. He knew better now. 

Jon had tacked 10 years onto his life the same way he had and worked his butt off for a job that was only given to him because he had been marked by the web already. Jonah could’v e picked any of them.  He easily could’ve chosen  Tim, who had been marked by the  S tranger after losing his brother, Sasha who had certainly gotten a mark or two working in artifact storage from how reluctant she was to discuss her time there, or even himself; He had been marked by the Lonely most of his life. He  could’ve been a good choice for Archivist but Jonah had chosen Jon. Not just for his markings but for knowing that Jon  would be so easy to seclude from everyone else and give more marks to and he was right. 

It had only taken four years after he got the position to  be able to open the door and bring about the  eyepocalypse . Gertrude had been in that position for nearly t wenty years and hadn’t ended the world yet. Jon was far too curious for his own good. He never could leave a mystery alone and it always came back to bite him. That wouldn’t happen this time. Martin would not let Jon pull away. He wouldn’t leave him in the tunnels, he would never find Gertrude’s body and Tim and Jon would never ha ve  their falling out. Jon wouldn’t be alone this time; he would make sure of it. 

“Martin, you’re staring at me. Is there something on my face?” 

Jon’s clipped tone broke through his thoughts and brought him back to reality. 

“no, not at all,  it’s a bit late, I was dazing” 

“you should go to bed if you’re tired” 

“and you should go home”

Martin watched Jon flinch a bit and realized he was overstepping his boundaries. He and Jon weren’t that close here, he was treating him like he was his and he wasn’t. He didn’t have the right to make Jon look after himself. Not anymore. 

That thought alone left him drained. His buzz was wearing off and he wanted to be alone to mourn everything he had lost. He wanted this Jon to go away so he could remember his own, the one who had loved him and had sacrificed himself for the world, for Martin, to make sure everyone would be alri ght because he cared so very much. That man was inside of this one somewhere but the circumstances that brought him to life would never happen in this world because Martin was here now and he wouldn’t let it. His Jon would never exist in this world. 

“Martin?” 

Jon’s voice  was soft, concerned. Martin realize d far too late that he’ d begun to cry. He hate d that  weakness; hate d how easily he’s breaking character when the last person who c ould know anything is Jon. He d id n’t respond to him, instead, he brushe d off his concern and head ed back into his room with a call over his shoulder of “Go home, Jon”

Jon does go home. He doesn’t intrude on Martin’s space, even out of worry, he’s not the type to. Martin somehow knows the moment he’s alone in the archives and his wails echo  off the stone walls. There is no one there to hear him break and he is thankful for it. He hadn’t thought he had tears left to shed over this after months of forcing himself to live on after Jon’s untimely demise but coming back to this time and seeing him again, seeing Tim, and Sasha, and  remembering how warm and happy their little found family used to be opened wounds that had long since closed and only showed him how alone he was. 

He sobbed into his hands, rubbing them over his eyes , trying to stem the flow of tears. He choked on a cry but what came out was fog. Billows that filled the room. Martin quickly shut his mouth, closing his eyes tightly. He held his breath. He couldn’t give in to the lonely now. He had to keep going. He had to save them. He didn’t have time to feel sorry for  himself like that. 

Instead of sleeping he opened the door to let the fog out and head ed up for Elias’s office. The best thing he could do for now was to get Jon the answers he needed. Those would come from Gertrude's statements. Lucky for Martin he remembered right where t hey were and was relatively sure Elias was sleeping right now anyway. He picked the lock silent as he could and slipped inside, gathering up the files and leaving other statements in their place so Elias would be none the wiser about the switch before he locked the door back and heade d back into the archives silently. 

He slipped the pile of statements inside of Jon’s desk before going to the break room to make tea. Nerves ate at him, if Elias found out what he did and looked into his mind,  would Martin be able to keep him from finding out what happened? He sat with the tea in hand until long after it went co ld until he could hear the faint footsteps above him of people filing in for the workday. He hadn’t slept a wink or changed his clothes. He quickly poured out his cold tea and headed for his room to grab a change of clothes before Jon could s how up once more. Today wa s the start of everything. Prentiss would attack today. Today Sasha would be replaced by something different, something horrible. Today was the day Gertrude Robinson was discovered to have been murdered. Today was the day Jon and Tim were marked by the Corruption. 

Today was the day Martin had to fix everything. To stop these tragedies from occurring. He would do whatever it took to prevent anyone he  cared about from suffering. He managed to slip  one container of CO2 under his bed before he heard the door to the archives open. 

It was showtime. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starving artist, please feed me comments.


	3. Worms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin deals with the Prentiss attack

Martin accepted Tim’s invitation to lunch, something he recalled turning down before due to monetary issues, though food was the furthest thing from his focus today. He got outside onto the pavement in front of the institute and gave a small chuckle. 

“Oh, I'm such a scatterbrain. Sorry, Tim, I forgot my wallet back in my room. Go ahead, I'll just grab it and catch up with you.” 

Tim turned to face Martin with an amiable smile. 

“It’s no problem, I'll cover it and you can pay me back with your company” 

Martin received a wink from the other and a laugh. Tim was such a kind guy and Martin was appreciative of the friends he had, which was all the more reason he had to get to his plan. 

“Thanks, Tim but it’s really no trouble. I'll just run back in and grab it and meet you at the restaurant. You can get us a table.” 

Martin smiled pleasantly though he knew he wouldn’t be meeting up with Tim. Before the other could protest again Martin waved over his shoulder and headed back inside. It was so easy to slip back into the cold familiar comfort the Lonely provided him, so easy to vanish from sight and become unknowable so he could be left to his own devices without any concern from others. Elias should be in a meeting right about now but that didn’t mean he was distracted. Martin would have to work fast.

He watched as Rosie put up her “be back soon” sign and headed for the nearest break room to grab her lunch and heat it up. Martin slipped behind her desk, safely hidden from the cameras for now but he couldn’t keep this up for long, not with the Lonely calling to him with her sweet siren song. He prayed that Peter hadn’t changed the logins for the Institute and lets out a small whoop when the password he entered let him into the system. He quickly worked his way into the security protocols and to the cameras in the building, shutting off the camera outside the archives in the hallway, blanking out the scene of his future crime. With that done he logged out of the Admin profile and reset the computer back to Rosie’s page and slipped down the hallways toward the stairs that would take him to the Archives. 

He located the Fire alarm closest to the Archives and took down the photo in the hall, breaking the string that held it and setting it to face the wall so Elias couldn’t use it to see him. That would be easy to explain away as it simply fell, and some kind soul set it back up against the wall in a rush to get out. He stood before the Fire Alarm and took a deep breath, it was time. Prentiss could attack at any moment now and he needed Sasha and Jon out of the building. Martin tensed for a moment before slamming the attached mallet into the glass and pulling the handle. 

The building lit up in fiery red light and a cacophony of loud shrieking noises. He quickly threw himself back into the lonely but not quickly enough. 

“Martin?!” 

Jon had thrown open the door to the archives to evacuate with Sasha and was certain he had seen Martin in the hallway.

“He went with Tim for lunch. He’s not here, Jon. We’ve got to go” 

Sasha gripped Jon’s arm, trying to pull him but Jon stubbornly stayed where he was. 

“No. I'm certain I saw him. Martin, where are you?!” 

Jon cupped his hands around his mouth and called for him once more before Sasha sighed and joined him, turning around to go back into the Archives and possibly search for him to assure Jon he wasn’t there. He couldn’t let them go back inside. He waited until Jon looked back for Sasha to appear once more. 

“Guys it’s dangerous, we have to leave” 

He shouted over the blaring alarm, startling Jon and Sasha. Sasha nodded right away and headed for the stairs, seemingly undisturbed at his sudden appearance but Jon stared at him uncertainly until Martin got behind him and nudged him toward the door. He saw Jon begin to move and once they’re upstairs he quickly shut the door to the hallway and watched through the small window as they were swept out with the crowd. They would be safe for the time being. Now he had to move. 

He rushed back downstairs and into Jon’s office, taking only a moment to grab a CO2 canister before he kicked a hole into the wall and slammed himself bodily into a nearby shelf, collapsing it over the hole. He could hear the worms trying to wriggle around and get inside to him. He was sure that that would be enough to get Prentiss’ attention. He bolted from the room, heading back to the hallways, hoping to all hope that Prentiss would come out from inside the tunnels and the CO2 spray would get her without any casualties. 

He rushed out into the hallway before realizing a terrible flaw in his plan. He had no idea where the CO2 alarm was. His only clue was an upper right hallway but there were three of those and he only had limited CO2 to keep himself safe. He recalled that most of Prentiss’ worms were kept in the archives, but they had been busy chasing after the rest of them. With no one down in the Archives, it was only a matter of time before Prentiss began seeking out the Archivist. 

He had to make a choice and make it fast, two hallways would certainly lead to his demise but one would save them all. 

“Martin!” 

He heard the call behind him and spun on his heels, horrified to see Jon, Sasha, and Tim behind him. 

“What are you doing?! The Institute could be on fire, you were supposed to be right behind us! Let’s go” 

Jon’s voice was angry, but Martin knew it was anger bred of concern for him. 

“Why do you have CO2?” 

Tim asked, looking Martin over like he had grown a third head. Martin quietly debated over what to do, he could use their help finding the CO2 system; Sasha must know where it is. 

“Prentiss is in the Archives” 

“What?!” 

“Prentiss is--” 

“no, I heard you! Shut up. What, how do you know that?”

Jon stared at Martin expectantly as he fumbled for his answer. He didn’t have time to be stumbling over himself. 

“That’s not important. She'll be up here soon. I need to set off the CO2. Sasha, where is the switch?” 

“What switch?” Sasha asked

“The CO2 system switch. You have to set it off manually” 

The three shared a look before all of them stared at Martin 

“You know what manually means, right, Marto?” Tim chimed, more than a little thrilled at the idea. 

“oh no.” 

“Oh yes. We’re starting a fire at the workplace!~” Tim cheered. 

Sasha looked amused while Jon pinched at the bridge of his nose. 

“Alright then. Let’s do this” 

Jon pulled a web designed Zippo lighter from his pocket and flipped it open. 

“So, how do we set it off? That’s an awfully small flame and it’s pretty high up?” 

Tim was the voice of reason here, leaving the group to think about how to set off the fire alarm system. 

“Guys, the fire department will be here soon. We have to hurry or we’ll all end up arrested” 

Sasha worried at her bottom lip. 

“What about a homemade Molotov? There’s a first aid kit with cloth bandages and rubbing alcohol under Rosie’s desk.” Martin hummed thoughtfully. 

Tim squealed with delight 

“Martin you chaotic bastard, I could kiss you right now!~” 

Martin laughed before jolting when he saw the first of the worms squirming its way from under the closed hallway door. 

“Shit, they’re coming. Make the Molotov, I'll hold them off.” 

Tim, Sasha, and Jon rushed over to the desk, looking for the rubbing alcohol. 

“damn it, the bottle is plastic, that won’t shatter upon impact. We can’t throw it.” 

“We need something that will light up” Tim replied to Sasha, Jon stared at his lighter, still seeming horrified that they were actively committing arson at work. 

“The portrait of Magnus above the desk, it’s the oldest thing in here, the old man will light up like a beacon!” Martin shouted over the alarm and spray of the CO2. His throat and head pounded from the loud noises and bright lights. It was far too much, he only hoped it would be over soon. He could hear the faint strings of the worms singing in the distance, promising him a place to belong and he knew that Prentiss was coming for them. She was in the institute. They had to do this now. 

Martin rushed over to the desk. 

“We can't be in here when the system goes off, it’ll give us CO2 poisoning. You have to go. Take the canister. I'll light the bastard up.” 

“Martin we can’t just leave you here-” 

“I need someone to bail me out when I get arrested for this. Think you guys can manage that?” 

Sasha’s worries trailed off and she sighed, seeing the determination on his face. 

“We don’t have time to argue, so, yes... we’ll bail you out. Be careful Martin. Don't you dare die on us.” 

“I have way too much to do to die here. Now Go.” 

Martin handed Tim the CO2 canister, hoping there was enough left in it to get them all outside. He took the webbed lighter from a worried Jon and waited until they were close enough to the entrance to head for the portrait. He waited patiently, hearing the song grow louder and louder. He waited until he saw the first shock of black hair and a red dress pressing against the wall to shamble into the room, worms dropping from her pitted flesh. 

“Go to hell” Martin growled, pressing the lighter to the corner of the doused portrait. He watched her face as it burst into wild flames and the CO2 system sprung to life. Martin covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and ran full speed toward the door, moving around the screaming thing that used to be a woman. 

He felt dizziness pressing down against his mind, but he forced himself to keep going. To not breathe in the gas and head for the door. He barely made it, his hand reaching for the push bar when his legs gave out and he collapsed onto the floor, his vision tunneled into nearly nothing but he could swear he saw Jon, his Jon, staring down at him, begging him to stay.... then darkness consumed him. 


End file.
